


Strolling Through a Cemetery on a Moonlit Evening (Out. For. A. Walk....Spike)

by cryptwarmer



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Canon Relationships, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Flirting, Off-screen Relationship(s), POV, Season/Series 05, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9507335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptwarmer/pseuds/cryptwarmer
Summary: Buffy is out on a solo patrol musing over the important men in her life: Riley, and the class of demons known as vampires. (Where does all that blood go anyway?) First Spike catches her talking to herself, then he catches her lurking. It's Spike's turn to ask what Buffy is doing outside of HIS house!All that moonlight and vampire dust are putting ideas into her head.A little thoughtful, a little funny





	

Strolling Through a Cemetery on a Moonlit Evening   
****************************************************

 

Buffy, Vampire Slayer extraordinaire, strolled through Restfield cemetery.

 

“Just another girl's night out.” she quipped to herself. She liked patrolling alone, she hadn't done much of it lately.

 

Buffy appreciated having a boyfriend who stuck around more than a few months. Heck, Riley stuck around after they'd made love AND after he’d found out she was the Slayer. She appreciated, a little less, that he wanted to stick around so much of the time. A gal needs her space, and a Slayer needs her alone time, well, alone except for the vampires and they weren't human, so they didn't really count.

 

Riley was a soldier, patrolling was his thing. His idea of a great date was strolling side by side, if not literally hand in hand, under the stars and moonlight, killing things. 

 

Riley could do romance too, and Buffy liked romance. Problem was that candles immediately made her think “magic spell”. Arms wrapping around her sometimes set off her reflex to do a head butt. Hand holding? She could never quite shake the idea that they were just checking for splinters.

 

She may have been wonky in the romance department, but Buffy had fashion down to an art. She was all about style. She saw herself as a Power Woman, half a hottie, and half a “don't mess with me and my boots” sort of gal. Her mom was like that, strong, without being overbearing and always looking her best. Joyce had taught Buffy to carry herself well, even if she had bombed at teaching Buffy to cook and drive. Buffy had learned the lesson of being independent, taking charge and looking good at the same time.

 

“These boots were made for slaying, and that's just what they'll do...” Buffy sang as she traipsed along. She felt a tiny pang of guilt for how much she was enjoying Riley's absence.

 

Her heart had done a little happy dance when he told her he'd be gone a few days for some super secret training. She'd pulled a pouty face, a la Dawn, and made a little noise of disappointment, a la Anya, so Riley would think that she'd miss him. It earned the predictable smile and a snuggly Riley hug. He'd kissed her on the forehead, and said in a tingly whisper, “Don't worry, I'll make up for it when I get back.”

 

“Making up for lost time” sex was just as delicious as “make up” sex. Well, no scratch that. She and Riley had never had a real fight, so Buffy wasn't sure about the “make up” sex, but it was hard to imagine it was nicer than “I'm horny as hell” sex. A weekend of covert ops with a platoon of men would make for a VERY horny as hell Riley.

 

Buffy’s brow wrinkled. Was it perverted to think about sex while slaying? They were both physical, and best done with lots of energy and flexibility. If she left out tenderness and post-coital snuggling, there were definite commonalities there.

 

Vampires and snuggling really didn't go together. She had only snuggled one vampire, Angel, and it had literally turned him into a monster. She must never forget, vampires are monsters deep down, and she never knew what would unleash them.

 

That was a nice thing about Riley, she could let her guard down. She was pretty sure that he wasn't going to turn into a monster because they'd gotten horizontal. He hadn't yet, and if he did she could take him.

 

Buffy wasn't a girl anymore. She understood her calling. Sexing up vampires was not part of the job description. Sexing up monsters, in general, was a no-no, and most demons were way too gross, slimy and covered with questionable appendages to want to do anything other than lop their heads off. Blehhlg. A shudder went through her.

 

Nope, Riley was, as Willow put it, a real cuddle kitten.

 

Buffy had shared with her best friend how nice it was to feel strong WARM arms around her for a change. Vamps grabbed her all the time, but they were cold blooded. Buffy loved warm arms, neck nuzzles that didn't involve pointy teeth, and happy sighs rather than snarls.

 

“Oh,” Willow had said, “Riley's a cuddle kitten!”

 

Cuddle kitten was a sweet endearment Willow used for Tara. Willow had once loved a werewolf, but it had ended tragically. She had less than happy associations with anything canine and avoided terms like puppy eyes, doggie style, and happy wags. Cuddle kitten was a term of honor in Willow speak.

 

Even so Buffy wished her friend had chosen a term more like Stevedore, or Lusty Lion, “Cuddle kitten” made her wince. Ever since Willow had said it Buffy couldn't erase it from her mind. When Riley made that happy sound during sex, it now sounded WAY too much like mewing. And his after sex face very much fit the saying “the cat that got the cream”. She was relieved he didn't have a scratchy tongue. That would have made the sexy thing a LOT less comfortable. Wicked grin

 

Riley usually fell asleep after sex, just when Buffy was getting revved up. She was used to LOTS of pre-bedtime activity; patrolling with Riley, who liked to get the job done quickly, left her antsy. Buffy enjoyed some rough and tumble before the staking. Hey, didn't most girls like a bit of foreplay?

 

There was a competition playing in Riley's head on how he stacked up against the Slayer. He kept a running score of how many vamps he staked and demons he put down. It drove Buffy a little crazy. It drove her a LOT crazy that when he didn't win, he moped. Mopey sex was lackluster, so sometimes she let him win.

 

There were nights, more and more of them, when she left his bed, went out alone and totally trashed Riley's numbers. Poor vamps, sex was just a warm up. If anything, Buffy was more dangerous after a romp in the sack. She felt a little guilty for stepping out on Riley to spend quality time with vamps, but only a little.

 

She was the Slayer. He never apologized for doing his special ops or following orders. She wasn't going to apologize for fulfilling her calling. Cuddle kitten wouldn't like it, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

 

What really rubbed her the wrong way was Riley lecturing her, over the fact that the Slayer gig put her in harm's way. She'd made it this far without him to back her up with his night vision goggles, walkie talkies, and taser guns. She was all about “I got this” and he was all about “Let me come along, just in case.”

 

Tonight was a beautiful night. What would make this night even better was some vamps she could kick the attitude out of with her new power boots. Buffy was also keen to know how this jacket handled in the durability department, and if vamp dust would wash out of these pants or would they require dry cleaning. 

 

“Here vampy vampy vampy...” She cooed into the night. “Come out come out wherever you are...”

 

“Looking for me love?” came a WAY too familiar voice.

 

Buffy sighed, she should have sensed him before she heard him. The problem was Spike was around so much lately that his chipped presence no longer registered on her radar.

 

“No, I really wasn't,” she said, not even glancing over her shoulder at him.

 

“Hey, I'm still a vampire,” he protested. She could hear the swish of his coat as he moved to catch up.

 

“Which means, I can still dust you.” she reminded him.

 

She heard a crinkle and this DID cause her to turn around. He was carrying a sack of groceries. What, other than blood, and in Spikes case cigarettes, did a vampire need from the grocery store?

 

She resisted the urge to look in the bag.

 

“Out patrolling I see.” he said

 

“Very observant,” she sniffed and rolled her eyes. She was sure he could sense the eye rolling, if only from her tone of voice. It was her standard reaction to his presence.

 

“Where's your band of merry men?”

 

“I'm going solo tonight. As in ALONE, so feel free to leave at any time.”

 

“Nice night for a slaying.” Apparently, even vampires enjoyed nice weather. If that was the case, why wasn't she seeing more of them?

 

“Nicer if you wouldn't scare the vamps off with your prattle.” 

 

“Don't get high and mighty with me. I heard you talking to yourself, whistling your happy tune.”

 

She could actually hear the smirk on his face when he said it.

 

Had she been speaking out loud? What had he heard, other than the vamp come out and play thing?

 

“I thought maybe you could use some company is all. Girl looks daft wandering about cemetery at night, talking to herself. Don't want anyone hauling you off to the funny farm do we?”

 

A chill went through her. What did he know?

 

“You alright Slayer?” Of course, he'd noticed.

 

“I'm fine, but I'd be so much better if you took your groceries and ran along.”

 

“No worries, this is my stop.” Sure enough, they were approaching his crypt.

 

“If you'd like to stop in...” he offered. “I picked up some chips, salt, and vinegar. Beer's cold.”

 

Was he serious? She was out here looking to KILL his kind and he was inviting her in for snacks? She knew the chip left him unable to hurt humans, but this was downright pathetic. Not even worthy of a reply. Buffy walked on into the night. She caught his shrug out of the corner of her eye.

 

Salt and vinegar chips? Maybe they went well with blood. Beer? Usually, Spike drank the hard stuff. Maybe he was cutting back on his drinking. He still smoked as much as ever.

 

“Why am I even thinking about him?” Buffy realized she actually HAD said that out loud and cursed herself. She was still close enough that he'd probably heard her.

 

“Riley,” she said in her head, “Riley, I was thinking about Riley, the big GOOD, not the big BAD.” A sly smile crept over her face. The Big Good, mmmm yes! Riley was big in all the right ways. Grin.

 

The saying goes that bigger men have bigger equipment. Buffy's experience backed that up. Riley and Angel, both big men, tall and bulky, did have the edge over Parker, who was basically Mr. Average. Riley was just right. Tingles

 

Wait, were those Riley tingles or?

 

“Slayer!” came a familiar snarl. This time it wasn't Spike, just two vamps with a dust wish.

 

“Show time!” A knowing smile ran over her face. She was going to enjoy this. She wouldn't dust these vamps too early in the game. She needed the workout, and to test her boots and jacket.

 

One of the vamps came at her, attempting a gut punch. He got nowhere near her gut. Buffy grabbed his arm, and swung him in an arch, smashing him against the nearest tombstone.

 

The other vamp, a startled look on his face, turned to run, “Oh no you don't,” she said, grabbing the hem of his jacket. He reeled backward and took a knee butt to the back of his head. His feet shot out from under him and her boot planted firmly on his chest. He was petrified. She'd get no fun out of this one, may as well stake him now and see if his dust clung to her pants. At least she'd get that much satisfaction out of him.

 

“See ya.” In went the stake. Now, where had that other one gone?

 

He was on the ground, leaning against a tombstone. If this were a cartoon there would be birds and stars circling his head.

 

“What is wrong with you guys tonight?” she grumbled. Clearly, this one was going to be as boring as his former friend. Stake in, dust out. She was alone again.

 

“Big bad? Seriously?” she muttered out loud. Back to her thoughts… Ah yes, her very nicely appointed cuddle kitten.

 

She guessed it was sick to think about, but seeing as how she spent so much time with them, how DID vamps get it up? She wasn't much for school, but she'd taken sex ed and there was talk about circulation. Vamps had no circulation. Rigor mortis? Wasn't that what made dead things stiff. “Bleghhhh.” That was just gross and disgusting. Vampires. They were the big NO. Dumb, dead, and dusty.

 

One stumbled up behind her yawning. Obviously, it had just woken up and she was the first warm body in encountered. Buffy turned.

 

“Are you looking for THIS?” One thrust and he was dust. It was all too easy. Must be the phase of the moon, or maybe collective vamp PMS.

 

Buffy clocked a lot of hours wandering graveyards; a lot of hours musing over vampires, wondering about all sorts of things. They ate. Did they have to use the bathroom? Where did all that blood go anyway?

 

How did they know she was the Slayer, even the newbies? They crawled up out of the ground, saw her and made their predictable cry “Slayer!”. Was there some kind of vampire instinct that she was the Slayer, but not enough to know that they should run, rather than announce their ridiculously stupid presence.

 

Why did some of them smell that way? Not all vamps were gross and stinky. Were some less dead than others? Had some just drunk the blood of some smelly person?

 

She knew about the yellow eyes, the better to see in the dark with. The forehead thingy, Giles said, was a temporary increase in the frontal lobe activity, something to do with super senses.

 

Why did they talk so much and say such STUPID things? Why would a creature that hunted do so much yammering? Hadn't they heard that silence is golden? It's called stealth guys. Try it sometime!

 

Case in point...rustle, rustle...Even if the bushes hadn't given them away, the conversation would have.

 

“No way, Krueger definitely has the better arm. He can throw, no one on the Packers can receive. That's their whole problem.”

 

“Nah, it's poor coaching,” the other vamp argued. “Hey, wanna swing by Willy's.”

 

“No man, I still owe him for last week's fantasy football.”

 

Guys and sports, even death couldn't part them.

 

“Hate to interrupt. The good news is you won't have to worry about paying Willy.” she smiled and dove in.

 

Apparently sporty vamps worked out, these guys put up a good fight. They got in some decent blows, even pulled a few coordinated moves. Maybe there was a Sunnydale vamp football team she wasn't aware of. These two definitely weren't suffering from poor coaching.

 

Stupid vamps have short lives. Vamps who've lasted long enough to get involved in the underworld fantasy football league were probably reasonably intelligent. Willy wouldn't lend money to a vamp if he didn't expect them to be around long enough to pay up.

 

Buffy recalled the saying that if you wanted to get the upper hand on your opponent, imagine them naked. She wondered how that would work with vampires.

 

Slam, pow, kick, kick, kick. Tackle, flip, throw.

 

Nah, naked vamps would be harder to fight. Clothing made it easier to toss them around. Buffy liked the way their legs made running circles in the air just before she sent one sailing. She had a pretty good arm herself!

 

Now, this was fun! Kicking vampy ass. Knocking their vampy skulls together till they sounded like coconuts. Knee to the jaw, knee to the other jaw. Now for Mr. Pointy!

 

Buffy, brushed the dust off her hands, grinning to herself. That felt good! Time to head home. She was pretty sure there were still cupcakes in the fridge. Her fantasy of sweet treats was interrupted by the sharp scent of a cigarette. Spike was leaning against front of his crypt, smoking, 

 

If he noticed her, he made no sign of it. He appeared lost in thought, taking deep draws of smoke, holding them, then releasing them through his nose in long satisfied sighs. Buffy drew still and watched.

 

Spike was one of the smart ones. He had staying power. Sure, he said annoying things, but there was no questioning his intelligence. Unlike stupid vamps, Spike was capable of the long game, and he played it when it served him.

 

Maybe his chatter was a cover for a brilliant mind, or maybe he really was stupid and he had managed to last this long due to his enormous power to annoy.

 

Spike was quiet now, relaxed and focused, enjoying every draw on his cigarette. Apparently, there were times his tongue stopped wagging.

 

A smile passed over his face. She wondered what had slipped through his mind. Something evil? Something funny?

 

Buffy wasn't sure what purpose a sense of humor served a vampire, but Spike certainly had one. Perhaps that too had gotten him out of some sticky situations. She had to admit, there were times his banter had made her hesitate staking him. He could be so insightful, it was unnerving. He knew how to get under an opponent's skin and into their head. Yet he still took childish glee in beating the crap out of stupid vamps and brainless demons.

 

Spike was smart and strong, but he wasn't very large. His countenance wasn't especially fearsome. Buffy would never claim any vamped out face to be handsome, but some were less Friday night horror show than others. Dracula, for instance, had a sort of Johnny Depp thing going on. Sigh 

 

How sick was it that some of her most erotic moments included vampires? What was wrong with her? Yet, there was something about them, a pure physicality, that was arousing.

 

“It's OK Slayer, you can come out. I know you're there.” Spike was grinding out the butt of his cigarette.

 

Buffy had been silent, yet he'd sensed her? Vamps had a heightened sense of smell, but he couldn't have caught her scent with his nose full of smoke.

 

She stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight that illuminated the front of the crypt.

 

“What's got your heart going all pitter pat?” he asked, “Have a good slay or two, or has our girl got something else on her mind?” He was smirking, but still not looking at her. Spike was examining his hand in the moonlight, frowning at the chipped polish, blood red rather than the usual black. No doubt Harmony's doing.

 

“So that's how you knew I was there.” Buffy tucked that information away.

 

“Heartbeat.” He nodded. “Can always tell when a girl's aroused.”

 

“Gross,” she said, but really she was embarrassed, good thing blushing didn't show in the moonlight.

 

“Now, now Slayer, no need to play the blushing girl, Big Bad here. Where's soldier boy tonight? Not home waiting in bed I'll wager, or you'd not be out looking for vamps to get your...”

 

“You really need to stop. NOW.” She said in what she hoped was a menacing tone.

 

Spike chuckled. “OK then, play it your way. Must just be the moonlight.”

 

It occurred to her that the cigarette he'd been savoring might be post-coital.

 

As if he read her mind he said: “Harmony doesn't like me to smoke inside, says it gets in the bedding.”

 

She had preferred her earlier image of Spike draped in his chair having chips and beer, watching a sitcom. Now she had the image of him and his blonde girlfriend in a bed, and...

 

She searched for come back, but what was there to say. He had been minding his own business, standing in front of his own home. It was she who had been caught lurking.

 

Did he and Harmony vamp out when they did it? Angel hadn't, but Angel had a soul. Two vamps probably vamped out. There would be thrashing and biting and, no doubt, with Spike involved, an endless stream of chatter. Did he growl sweet nothings in Harmony's ear, tell her how pretty she was, how nice her perfume smelled and how tantalizing was her lingerie?

 

Buffy knew Harmony from way back when. She was certain her expensive tastes hadn't changed. Harmony kept herself looking quite lovely for a vampire. And she did smell nice even if she was as stupid as ever. Funny that Spike was with someone as dimwitted as Harmony. Drusilla was insane, but she wasn't stupid. Harmony was a step down as far as Buffy was concerned.

 

Buffy realized that Spike hadn't said anything for at least a full minute, maybe three, while she was doing her silent musing. She noticed her own forehead was creased and gave her head a tiny shake stretching her facial muscles into something less telling.

 

He was watching her, neither scowling nor smirking. His eyes were piercing. No doubt the wheels of his mind were ticking round and round, trying to get inside of her head.

 

Buffy had no idea why, but she stepped towards him. He cocked his head, apparently as surprised as she was.

 

Spike wasn't wearing his coat. His shirt was unbuttoned. Moonlight illuminated a pale strip of his chest. His pants were unbelted and he was barefoot. No doubt about it, he was fresh out of bed.

 

“You're not planning on slaying me now, are you? Would be a sorry way to dust up a perfectly fine night, and Harm would be ever so disappointed if I didn't show up for round two.” Feigned fear, genuine smile.

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow, but couldn't manage to pull off a look of disgust. OK, now something really was wrong. She actually felt a sting go through her. Jealousy.

 

She was going home to a cold bed, and Spike was going home to, well, round two. Here she was, jealous of Harmony. This felt WAY too much like high school.

 

“If you care to join us,” he said devilishly, ”Might take some convincing Harm, but I'm sure three blondes can have more fun.”

 

OK, that did it. An actual flash of disgust twisted her face.

 

“There you go, that's my Slayer.” He chuckled. “Wouldn't have felt I'd done my duty if I didn't leave you worse off than I found you.”

 

“You're--” she began an insult.

 

He held up a hand, “Save your breath. I can fill in the blank. Reckon I've heard it all from you enough times I can write the script. Besides, shouldn't keep a girl waiting.” He turned and put his hand on the door.

 

“Still love, the invitation stands. Harmony doesn't have to know.”

 

“Spike, you--” too late. He was gone, more interested in what lay waiting inside than another one of her diatribes.

 

It dawned on her that Spike probably had the same complaint about her; that she never shut up. Hadn't he come upon her walking alone talking to herself? He was right, he'd been on the receiving end of her questionable wit and righteous rants more times than either of them could count.

 

Buffy frowned at the closed door. The breeze had carried away any lingering smoke. It was just her and the night once again. All the bad vampires tucked away for the night, or well, forever.

 

She headed home, this time taking care not to voice any of her thoughts out loud.

 

Spike was always hiding behind swagger and his black duster. Seeing him tonight, out of uniform was surprising, but not awkward. She'd enjoyed studying him for those few unguarded moments; him smoking, thinking, coming down from one climax and looking forward the next. He'd known she was there, but he hadn't said anything at first as if he'd just wanted a few minutes alone, a few minutes without having to think of snappy chatter or some quip to disgust her. Just Spike, being Spike. A different Spike than she was used to, but Spike none the less.

 

He wasn't towering like Angel, the hand he'd been examining in the moonlight was not as bulky as Riley's, but Spike was fast, strong, and determined. He never let up until he got what he wanted. Maybe it was the moonlight, the arousal of the fight, and no cuddle kitten waiting for her that led to Buffy imagining his hands, sliding skillfully, powerfully over her skin, his cool knowing smile curving against her shoulder, his confident voice murmuring in her ear.

 

Shiver Nerves, Buffy, imagine your opponent naked. Oh god....

 

She turned. She could barely see the moonlit front of his crypt now that she was almost to the cemetery's gate.

 

Imagine your enemy naked... Small men have small parts.

 

She'd seen Spike fight and kill vamps and demons that far outweighed and outsized him. He'd dust them, then pull out a smoke, take a deep draw on his cigarette, a man content. What he lacked in size, he made up for in skill.

 

Through the years Buffy had been all sorts of things with Spike: beside him, on top of him, under him. She'd even been engaged to him. They'd acted so giddy then that it had felt like a school play, exaggerated and over the top. That had been a caricature Spike. Spike under a spell, silly and god awful sloppy in love, not a Spike on the prowl, or a Spike fired with lust and determination.

 

A man doesn't take a moonlit breather or a deep pull of satisfaction on a cigarette, after choosing wedding music.

 

A cool breeze made her pull her jacket up around her, a stray lock of hair danced across her cheek. Tingle

 

Having these thoughts about a vampire should revolt her, but at this moment it didn't. She couldn't even work up a good case of disgust, not after what she'd seen. Spike hadn't been gloating, vamped out, bloody, or covered with scratches. He bore no sign of ill behavior or degradation. He was just a man basking in the afterglow. Lucky Harmony, Spike showed no sign of fatigue or any intention to roll over and fall asleep.

 

“If you care to join us...” Ok, she should definitely be able to work up some disgust over that. Buffy had never and would never want to join Harmony in ANYTHING, least of all sex.

 

“Harmony doesn't have to know.” Shiver

 

No. No shiver. Cuddle Kitten. You've got Cuddle Kitten.

 

She bet Spike growled like a tiger.

 

At what distance could he sense arousal? Was she far enough away? Far enough away she guessed that he couldn't sense it, but she could. She knew what she was thinking and feeling. She needed to get out of here. NOW.

 

“Still love, the invitation stands...”


End file.
